Tchoozit's Criteria, Explained

"So... what are your criteria, exactly?"

We get that one a lot. And every time, there's a little pause in the conversation… because the answer isn't what people expect. Tchoozit's criteria aren't scores. They're not sliders from 1 to 10. They're not even categories you'd use to sort your games like socks in a drawer.

They're questions.

Simple questions. Sometimes a little absurd. Questions that force you to pick between two games from a very specific angle. And it's in that choice, repeated duel after duel, that your ranking builds itself. Not from your head. From your gut.

Here are the seven of them. What they actually measure, and why each one tells a different story about you and games.

1. Desert Island

"Which one are you taking to a desert island?"

This is the survival criterion. Not "which one is better" but "which one would keep you company if you had nothing else for the next ten years." It's a question of replayability, sure, but not only. A game can be replayable without being the one you'd actually want on an island. Here, we're also measuring systemic depth (does it still have secrets after 200 hours?) and durability — does it still feel good a year later.

Sandboxes, roguelikes, and deeply systemic games tend to crush this one. Heavily scripted games, no matter how brilliant, drop fast. An incredible narrative game you finished in 15 hours will lose against an infinite puzzle game. And that's exactly what the criterion reveals: the difference between a masterpiece you consume, and a companion you generate.

2. Connection

"Which one are you most attached to?"

This is the heart criterion. Not quality. Not technical excellence. Attachment, full stop. A game can be objectively average and still win this duel because it touched something in you the other one couldn't reach.

What we're measuring here is aesthetic resonance (does the universe, the mood, the music speak to you?), projection (can you see yourself in this game?) and influence on your life — did it mark a period, spark a passion, change the way you see something. This is the criterion where personal taste weighs the most, and that's on purpose. Two players can give diametrically opposite answers, and both be completely right.

Games that have a soul tend to win here. Not the biggest. Not the prettiest. Not the longest. The ones that know exactly who they are, and create a world you actually want to stay in.

3. Gameplay

"Which game has the most satisfying gameplay?"

Key word: satisfying. Not "complex." Not "innovative." Not "deep." Satisfying. The feeling in your hands. The feedback when you strike. The sound when you pick something up. The precision when you land that perfect jump you missed eight times in a row.

This criterion measures the quality of the fun loop (is the core action already a pleasure?), control (does the game do what your fingers ask of it?), fluidity (does it force you to fight its own menus?) and skill progression (does your mastery grow, and does the game let you feel it?).

Zelda, Celeste, Hades consistently shine here. Not because they're perfect. Because every micro-action in those games is a small moment of pleasure. And a game whose core loop is fun is a game where everything becomes fun.

4. Art Direction

"Which game has the most striking art direction?"

This isn't about graphical horsepower. A pixel art game can flatten a 4K AAA title if its artistic vision holds up. What we're measuring is coherence (do all the visual elements pull in the same direction?), recognition (can you identify the game from a three-second screenshot?) and aesthetic choices — does the game dare to stylize, abstract, go minimal, instead of hiding behind realism.

The best art direction is the one that serves the game. That makes gameplay readable. Feedback clear. Navigation intuitive. And that, years later, still leaves images burned into your head. A game with strong art direction, you can close your eyes and see it.

5. Sound Design

"Which game has the most immersive sound environment?"

We say "sound environment" but the question is really about sound design in the broadest sense. The soundtrack, yes, obviously. But also sonic textures. Sound effects. Mixing. Spatialization. A good mix changes everything, even when the player couldn't articulate why.

What matters here is audio-world coherence: does the sound serve the universe, the mood, the tension, the narrative? An incredible OST that doesn't fit the game won't win this duel. And conversely, a game with subtle but perfectly integrated sound design can beat a game with a far more spectacular soundtrack.

Music and sound shape anticipation, the alternation between calm and chaos, the dramatic build. A game can be average. But if its audio creates real momentum, it leaves a memory that outlasts the controller.

6. Fun

"Which game do you have the most fun with?"

The simplest question. And maybe the trickiest. Not "which is better." Not "which is prettier." Which one gives you the best time, right now, without having to think about it.

This criterion measures immediacy (does the game deliver pleasure fast?), the gratification loop (do you get feedback, surprise, spectacle?) and that weird traction that makes you check the time and realize it's 3 AM. Because fun isn't just point-in-time pleasure. It's also that "one more round" that grabs you by the collar.

Fun hates stagnation. It loves renewal, small surprises, twists. And it has a huge social dimension: some games only become truly fun the moment you share them. The duel captures all of that.

7. Rediscovery

"Which one would you dream of discovering for the first time again?"

This is the projected nostalgia criterion. Not "which would you replay" but "which would you rediscover." Huge difference.

What surfaces here is the magic of the first time. The wonder. The twists that only work once. Exploring an untouched world. Those first victories before you master anything. Some feelings only happen on first contact: fear of the unknown, narrative tension, aesthetic shock. Repetition dilutes them. You can't get them back.

The game you'd want to rediscover is often the one that tells the greatest story — because a story can only be fully lived once. It's also, often, the one you loved the most.

Why questions, not scores?

If you've made it this far, you've probably noticed one thing: none of these criteria can be reduced to a number. "Which one are you taking to a desert island?" doesn't get answered with a 7/10. It gets answered with a choice.

And that's the whole principle behind Tchoozit. Instead of asking you to assign abstract scores to dimensions that are impossible to quantify, we ask you a simple question, show you two games, and you pick. Your ranking builds itself duel by duel, criterion by criterion. And what comes out isn't a flattened global score. It's a precise portrait of your relationship with games.

Seven facets. Seven ways to look at the same game. And seven different rankings that, together, tell a story no score out of 10 could ever capture.

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Want to see what your choices reveal? Start a duel and discover your player profile.